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The rest of the day goes smoothly, with a near constant stream of customers and baking. It’s a dream, really, though I might need to look into hiring someone, even if it’s just for a few hours a day. Some uninterrupted time to bake or, you know, pee would be nice.
I fully intended to take a tray of items next door as a peace treaty and attempt to make a better first impression, but the time just never came with opening day here, and now that the bakery is closed, my bones ache with exhaustion.
I’m finishing up closing down when my phone rings in my apron pocket, the bluetooth headphones in my ears allowing me to answer as I finish mopping.
“Hey, babe.”
“Hey, big-time business owner,” Lilah answers. There’s a lilt to my baby sister’s voice that’s always there—sunshine and honey and pure happiness.
Untouched by the chaos.
The baby.
I could feel bitter about it, but that was my goal all along.
“Ahh!” she shouts, and panic enters my chest. What is—
“Lilah!”
“Stop it! No!” The panic creeps through my veins as I pause my mopping. What is wrong? Is she in danger?
“Lilah! What is going on?” My heart is in my stomach.
“My cat is hunting me,” she says, and both relief and annoyance flood me.
Her stupid fucking bitch of a cat.
“Jesus, Lilah. You scared the shit out of me.”
“Well, she’s scaring the shit out ofme.”
“The cat is a menace. She’s always hunting you.”
“She looks angrier today.” I roll my eyes, rinsing out the mop and pushing the bucket to the supply closet.
“She’s always angry.”
“Angrier, Lola.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.” Molly, the calico cat Lilah rescued from a Craigslist ad, hoping to have something cute and cuddly and low maintenance to keep her company, is the meanest cat I’ve ever met. When she says the cat hunts her, she means it. I’ve seen her stand on a couch while Molly acts like she’s hiding in the savannah grass, ready to pounce. “Have you fed her?” She sighs like I’m an idiot.
“Of course, I’ve fed my damn cat.” The cat is also overweight, and her only joy comes in eating.
And, of course, hunting.
“So what did I do to deserve the pleasure of my baby sister calling me?” I ask, going back to my mopping. I am exhausted, but I’m still running on the fumes of excitement from opening day. It was a complete success, and I even got two catering orders and a cake order for next weekend.
At this rate, I’ll be able to pay off the bank loan I had to take out in no time.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” she says, her voice singsongy. Lilah is the sweet one, always put together, always amicable. Friendly, the kind of person who you meet and instantly decide she could be your very best friend.
She was that way even when she was a kid, and I always assumed that was why mom was always so careful with her when we were young. She and I would joke that if one of us was going to get kidnapped, it would be Lilah, because she’ll talk to any stranger and tell them her life story, for better or worse.
I try to speak, but she keeps going. “I saw the pictures in thePress! You looked so cute! The article says it was a huge success.”
I roll my eyes and can’t fight a smile.
